


Blood Is Thicker Than Water and Tastes Better Too

by dragonnan



Category: Psych
Genre: Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Crack, Crazy, Gen, Humor, No Plot/Plotless, Supernatural Elements, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonnan/pseuds/dragonnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glance into the life of one Shawn Spencer, vampire.  This would be a lot easier with a straw...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meh, I Sleep All Day Anyhow

 

 

He supposed he was unique in this. The same way he was unique in eating sherbet ice cream and drinking orange juice at the same time when he was sick... not that he'd have _that_ problem any longer. Well, so long as he avoided corpse juice anyhow. Suffice it to say, he felt no different after being turned than he had been prior to the nippy necking session. Who'd have guessed his new girlfriend was one of Count Chocula's breed?

And really, he should have picked up on the clues. He'd never seen the girl outside during the day. Every memory after that dockside ditching in high school involved being indoors during the day or being outside at night. Of course, his detecting the truth sorta hinged on a belief that blood suckers wasn't referring to mosquitoes.

It hadn't even hurt. It truly bit (and sure, like puns ever killed people) that he couldn't pull a decent sparkle. Abby sparkled. Or maybe that was just body glitter...

The whole non-reflection thing also played hell with his hair styling attempts.

However, he was then happy to discover his hair automatically styled itself. There was something to be said for unstoppable supernatural hotness.

He still dumped her though. Seriously, this was like, demanding commitment and immortality or not, Shawn was so not ready to go there. Actually, with immortal life attached he _really_ wasn't prepared to go there. Fifty or so years he could handle. Eternity was stretching it just a tad.

It did sorta suck that he couldn't get a decent tan ever again. But the awesome sex seemed a reasonable trade off. The jury was still out on the whole blood thing. Seriously, he wasn't even a fan of rare steaks.

One thing he had no doubt about though. First thing Monday he was buying a pimp-ass cape.

 

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

He hadn't really planned on turning her. He had planned on the nookie. Screwing on the ceiling sorta came as a shock to both of them, but Jules was a sport and decided to roll with it. Could he really be blamed that the hickey art got a bit out of hand?

And yeah it was really wrong but man it was so much hotter after his longer and pointier incisors tattooed her throat.

Now if only he could stop biting his tongue...

 

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

 

 

It took exactly three hours for Juliet to turn her partner. Something about not wasting a lunch hour to pick up Tampons...

 

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^  


 

“You know Lassy, this would be a lot more fun if we could fly just a little higher.”

“No. And can you please turn down the volume on the thing? This is embarrassing enough without you blasting... what is that, Flight of the Valkyries?”

“I'm in the mood for classics. But seriously dude, you can't die! How can you still be afraid of heights?”

“Spencer, we will maintain a safe and reasonable cruising altitude or we walk – your choice.”

“But we're three feet off the ground!”

“And not a single pigeon collision. You're welcome.”

“Knew I should have just ridden with Gus...”

“By the way, I thought for sure you'd have turned him by now.”

“Dude, we covered this. I don't turn guys. He'll just have to wait for Jules to suck him. Is it just me or did that sound extremely dirty?”

 

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

 

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD...!” Shawn clutched his hair, pacing around Lassiter's splayed body. Legs and arms displayed on the sidewalk in a manner that could only be described as “akimbo” - whatever the hell that meant anyway.

“Dude, I told you she ate a Tic-Tac!”

Yelling at the downed form so wasn't helping. Who knew night stalkers could retain allergies? Well Shawn knew.

Now...

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD...!”

“Shawn!” Oh crap...

“Dad, what are you...?” Henry Spencer of the unturned and off the menu (cause seriously – ew? And besides, if Shawn couldn't handle relationships for eternity, he SO wasn't doing forever in the lecture circuit)

“What the hell did you do?” And it starts.

“It wasn't my fault! Lassy drank mint blood and now I think he's dead!”

And really dad? Eye roll? So not helping.

“Shawn, he isn't dead. Well... more than he was already. It's just a side effect. Probably wear off in a couple of hours.”

“Probably!? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD...”

“Shawn, stop saying Oh my God!” Grabbing his cell phone, Henry sighed as he started dialing. “Gus is still not...” He made a fang gesture with his fingers and now Shawn was the one rolling his eyes.

“Not a vampire, no. Wait, why are you calling Gus?”

His father smiled. “I read something a while back.  I think it will help.”

It took approximately fifteen minutes for Gus to arrive. Frowning as he exited the car, silver case in hand, he approached the small group of three. As soon as he saw Lassiter sprawled on the ground, his eyes widened.

“Is this why you asked me to bring my case?”

Shawn flinched as his friend drew near. “Dude! Are you wearing garlic?? Not cool man!”

Gus lifted his chin. “Damn straight! Unlike you, I don't plan to be somebody's slurpee!”

“Dude, I'm not going to suck your blood!”

Still keeping Shawn at arm's length, Gus lifted his free hand. “That's for damn sure!”

“A cross? Really?  What next, you gonna go all Buffy and seal my soul with a wooden stake?”

Henry shoved between them. “Okay, that's enough. Gus, put your crucifix away, Shawn... go... hover over there.” He gestured vaguely towards the side of a building and Shawn sighed, levitating droopily and gliding towards the wall to mope.

Henry frowned even more deeply. “I didn't mean literally! What if somebody walks by!?”

A small O' of his mouth and Shawn returned to the ground.

Meanwhile Henry had turned back to the downed man... er... whatever.

“Gus, you got any eppie pens on you?”

Still watching his buddy warily, Gus set the case down and opened the top. Reaching in, he pulled out a short needle. “Here.” He handed it over without moving his eyes from Shawn, who glared back for a second before sticking out his tongue, pressing his thumb against his nose, and waggling his fingers.

Gus frowned. “Oh, it's on... OUCH!”

His eyes whipped down to see the short needle jutting from his thigh.

“What did you do that for!?” He yelled as Henry held the syringe in place.

“Well Gus, funny thing about vampires. If they drink blood tainted with an allergen, the best way to heal them is with blood containing a counter agent.”

Already feeling lightheaded from the shot his body didn't need, Gus swallowed at the meaning he was really wishing he hadn't grasped.

“You're turning me into a drug mule?”

Henry looked affronted. “Gus, did I make you swallow baggies filled with cocaine?” Finally pulling the needle away, he dug into his pocket until he found a small blade.

Gus squeaked, then darted his eyes towards his friend, who'd begun sniffing – leaning forward while his head moved side to side much like a canine seeking treats.

“You just stay over there Mr. Bite First Suck Later!”

Shawn's eyebrows rose. “Okay, did you just say I suck?”

“What do you think?”

Gus saw movement and turned just as Henry snagged his arm. “Sorry kid, but this will sting a little...”

The piercing scream likely woke wolves on the other side of the planet. It definitely had an impact on the Rick Knight wannabe over by the wall – who quickly cupped his ears and bared his unholy biters in obvious pain.

And then Henry let go. While the older man was kneeling over Lassiter, Gus tried to control his breathing before daring to look at the giant gash that had been hacked into his arm.

He looked.

Okay, but dude, it had _felt_ like a gash... Though he'd seriously had worse papercuts...

“You want a tourniquet for that severed limb?” Shawn was suddenly hovering over his shoulder, and Gus flailed back, grabbing for the cloves strung around his neck.

“GAH! Get back undead demon!! The power of Christ compels you!”

“Who are you, Father Damien Karras or Doctor Evil?  Besides, familiars aren't supposed to be so wussy!”

"I'm not your familiar, Shawn, stop calling me that!"

A groan distracted them both, and they looked over as Henry was helping Lassiter sit up.

“You alright?” Henry kept one hand on the man's shoulder until he was certain he wouldn't face plant once more. That was a dental nightmare he didn't wish on anyone.

“Was I dead?”

Shawn chuckled. “More than normal you mean? Yeah, a little.”

“Shawn...” Obviously not as amused, Henry stood, pulling Lassiter to his feet as strength clearly returned.

Then Lassiter smacked his lips, his eyebrows dropping. “Did I... just drink Guster's blood?” Then he made a face. “Did you eat garlic?”

Henry clapped him on the back, turning to head back the way he'd come. “You're fine.” He made it to his truck before turning again. “Oh, and are you three still coming over for dinner?”

Shawn glanced towards Gus who edged slightly away. “Dude... Forget it... Yeah, we're still coming over. Steaks right?”

Henry nodded. “Of course. And rare.” He added as Lassiter opened his mouth. The two of them smiled while Gus manfully fought off a bout of nausea.

“I'll expect you there at eleven.” One learned early that vampires preferred to eat late.

“We'll be there!”

As soon as Henry was out of sight, Gus slapped Shawn's arm.

“Next time use someone else's blood!” Grabbing his case, he headed for his car.

“Dude, that hurt!” Rubbing his arm, Shawn pulled up his sleeve. “I'm gonna get a hematoma!!”

Still glaring, Gus dropped behind the wheel and slammed the door, making sure Shawn saw him engage the lock.

“It was dad's idea!!”

Putting the vehicle in gear, Gus glared until the little car melted out of sight.

Still standing together, Shawn and Lassiter glanced at one another. Lassiter finally shrugged. “You wanna visit Tory again?”

Shawn nodded. “Okay.”

Lifting from the ground (three feet of course) the two headed into the dark.

“Just remember the rules...”

Shawn sighed. “I know, I know... no turning her.”

 

BONUS!!!

I'm also creating the occassional comic based on some of the scenes.  Here is a comic for the final segment of this chapter!

 

 

<p><img src="http://i147.photobucket.com/albums/r306/dragonnan/Vampirecomic-1_zpsd12ab33d.jpg" /></p>  
  
<p><img src="http://i147.photobucket.com/albums/r306/dragonnan/Vampirecomic2-1_zps1247896e.jpg" /></p>


	2. Creatures Crawl in Search of Blood - to Terrorize Gus in His Neighborhood

“You're just gonna suck that down right in front of me aren't you.”

 

Shawn took an obnoxiously wet slurp from the straw before licking his lips. “Dude, I told you, it's cherry.”

 

Gus glared steadily for several moments. Meanwhile Shawn opened his mouth in an exaggerated manner, no doubt going out of his way to show off the points of his teeth, before wrapping his lips around the straw and pulling in another gulp of the slushy fluid that SO was not cherry.

 

“Dude, do _not_ even play! That's the same line you tried to feed me when I almost ate that lollipop!”

 

“What? It was cherry!” Then Shawn chuckled.

 

Gus sucked in a breath and tried not to reach for the emergency stake he kept stashed under the desk next to his purification kit.

 

“I will Twilight your ass, Shawn!”

 

The snort was not attractive in spite of the supernatural aura that clung to the other man. For a blood sucker, Shawn managed to go against basically every so-called “standard” that his kind were supposed to exhibit. Well, _almost_ every standard, Gus thought as Shawn slurped at his frozen treat.

 

“Admit it, Gus,” he said, polishing off the smoothie, “you're just a sour sarsaparilla because I can fly and you can't.”

 

Clearly feeling the need to demonstrate, Shawn levitated off the chair, still in a leaned back position with his legs crossed, to drop his empty smoothie cup in the trash. Smugly tipping his chin at Gus, he started to float back to his chair when his face twisted into a wince. Dropping like a rock, he yelped as the back of his thigh smashed against the corner of his desk

 

“Serves you right.” Gus smiled as he propped his own heels up on his blotter. Meanwhile, Shawn continued to whimper on the floor.

 

“Dude, I'm totally cramping!”

 

Keys clicked under Gus's fingers as he typed. “I told you that would happen if you played hot air balloon every second of the day.”

 

The whimpering continued, along with some tantrumy foot kicking. “It's not fair! I don't fly _everywhere_!”

 

Now it was Gus's turn to snort. “The bathroom.”

 

“The floor was wet...”

 

“Getting a glass from the cupboard?”

 

“You know how high the shelf...”

 

“Slam dunking a paper ball in the garbage can?”

 

Shawn grunted as he levered up and gingerly hovered himself back behind his desk, one hand rubbing his abused backside. “Come on, that was totally cool and you know it.”

 

Dropping his heels back to the floor, Gus pointed at his friend. “Admit it, Shawn, you're a floataholic.”

 

The wincing warped into a grimace. “I resent that! We prefer the term “Gravity Challenged.”

 

Gus shook his head. “Yeah, you're challenged...”

 

The other being slumped deeper into his chair, feet returning to rest on the edge of his desk while he studied the points of his fingernails. After a moment he looked across the office towards his buddy.

 

“You know that purification stuff doesn't actually work, right?”

 

Fingers stopped tapping, though Gus didn't meet the slightly gold-speckled eyes glowing his way.

 

“I _know_ you didn't just say you've been digging through my things.”

 

Undead demon or not, Shawn still waffled like somebody well aware an Indian burn was forthcoming.

 

“I... may have... ehensomgarhum...” The last few words trailed off in a half-whispered mish-mosh as Shawn turned his head away to begin methodically counting the pencils sticking out of his cup.

 

“Cut it out Shawn, I know you aren't obsessive! And what do you mean you ate some garlic!?”

 

“I told you,Gus, it doesn't do anything. Well, I mean it did give me hiccups for like, two hours... And besides, how can you be sure I don't have vampire dyslexia?” Shawn started counting the pencils jammed in the ceiling above him next – of course, needing to float upwards to do so. “Doesn't your little Van Helsing handbook say one of the side effects is obsessive counting? It's just like Dracula Two, Ascension – I totally can't help myself! Three, five, one, eight – it's like a storm of numbers all jumbled in my head!”

 

“Okay, first of all, that's dyscalculia, not dyslexia. And secondly, you didn't count that bag of seeds you dropped last week.”

 

Shawn tugged a pencil from the ceiling and rolled it absently in his fingers. “Okay, why would I want to count seeds?”

 

The three hole punch Gus threw hit him square in the belly - dropping him back to the floor in a meaty _THUD_!

 

“OW! Guuus!!” The drawn out whine carried from the opposite side of the desk with the perfect pathetic pitch.

 

Unrepentant, Gus sat back down at his keyboard and resumed typing up his paperwork. “I told you Shawn, don't play!” Just one more hour and the sun would set. Shawn would vanish for some light stalking and Gus could finally leave to get himself a dinner that wouldn't involve bodily fluids. And it wasn't like Shawn couldn't get his nasty nutrition from a rare steak anyhow. No, he just enjoyed grossing out his best friend by going leech whenever possible. For a guy who'd refused his unnatural drives for nearly a month when he'd first turned – up to the point of passing out from malnutrition, he sure seemed to be enjoying his “special juice” these days.

 

“You know, you aren't fulfilling your duties as a Familiar.” Shawn groused, apparently still crumpled on the floor behind his desk. “You're supposed to be nice to me and bring me virgins and pimped out coffins and stuff.”

 

“I told you not to call me that! And besides, I am not about to drag some poor young girl here just for you to feed on.”

 

“Okay, who said anything about _feeding_ on them?”

 

Gus slapped the cover closed on his computer. “That's it, I'm out of here!”

 

“Guuus!” Clawing, literally, back to his feet, Shawn seemed to forget levitating as he trailed his friend to the door – hissing as his passed the main window – his skin reddening under the brief exposure to sunlight. “Come on! Look, I promise okay?”

 

Gus paused at the door, looking back steadily. “Promise what?”

 

Shawn bit his lip – then winced as, for the hundredth time, he punctured his pout with a fang.

 

“I promise... not to...”

 

Gus folded his arms, lifting one eyebrow. “Go on... say it.”

 

Sigh of incredible long-suffering and Shawn crammed his hands in his pockets. “I promise not to satiate my unholy cravings in your presence...”

 

“And...?”

 

“Annd I promise to stop tricking you into eating bloodpops.”

 

“And?”

 

“And bloodcicles.”

 

“And?”

 

“And... blood... sausage?”

 

“Fair enough.” Gus held out his fist and Shawn gratefully returned the bump. Walking back into the room, Gus aimed for the couch instead of his desk – flipping on the television as he dropped down. Shawn followed, once again floating a couple of inches off the floor.

 

“Shawn...”

 

As Gus leveled an evaluating stare, Shawn rolled his eyes and sank back down – slouching the rest of the way and settling beside his friend with a pillow across his lap.

 

Meanwhile, Gus turned on the set and flipped to the guide channel.

 

“So what do you want to watch?” He asked as the movie selections began to scroll by, “Scream... Friday the 13th...”

 

They both stopped as the next option appeared on the screen. “Buffy...”

 

Shawn sighed happily. “Man, I'd get slayed by that any day of the week.”

 

Gus leered. “You know that's right.”

 

After a second, Shawn looked down at his hands and twisted his fingers.

 

“Gus?”

 

Still staring at the screen as the movie began, Gus barely turned his chin. “Hmm?”

 

“We're... we're cool, right?”

 

Movie abandoned at the sudden anxiety, Gus turned once more to his friend. After a moment of study, he smiled. “Yeah, we're cool.”

 

Minor kerfuffle averted, the two returned to their movie.

 

“You know I was totally lying about those promises right?”

 

Gus slid down a bit more comfortably against the cushions.

 

“Yeah, I know.”


	3. Dead and Loving It

“Shawn!”

 

Double hiss and a clawed hand grappled from beneath the desk as an untidy undead consultant struggled to a kinked hover. “That's Mathter to you.” He lisped, dabbing at his tongue with the hem of his shirt. He'd tried the cape thing for a full week before abandoning that idea the third time it got snagged on his father's picket fence. Sure, there was a gate he could have used but walking was so... mortal.

 

Drifting into the kitchen, he grinned as Gus chucked a Twinkie at him. “Thanks man!”

 

The frown didn't fit the gift giving. “Dude, what did I say? And don't tell me that's strawberry filling!”

 

Shawn snorted as he crammed the entire pastry in his mouth. “Iht's noht. Iht's schew...rry.” Crumbs, cream, and a suspiciously red sauce trickled down his chin. He caught most of it with a swipe of his tongue. Gus shuddered.

 

“I have a stake.” He threatened; even taking several steps towards his “Break In Case of Sudden Bloodlust” emergency kit.

 

Rolling his eyes, Shawn dug through the fridge for the other half of his modified Twinkies. “You have a sharpened mini bat. Last I heard, Wally Joyner wasn't synonymous with Van Helsing.”

 

Suddenly Gus whirled, a sharpened pencil in hand. Shawn shrieked and zoomed to the ceiling, fingers clawed out like a terrified cat.

 

Smug, Gus dropped the pencil back into his desk drawer. “That's what I thought.”

 

Letting his fangs pout from his lips, Shawn sank back to the floor.

 

“I wasn't scared!”

 

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

 

 

Juliet sighed and shook her head. “I told you, I have to work. And it's not as if I can get another time slot.”

 

“But Juuuules!”

 

Her extremely sexy pale face turned to stare down the pasty complexion of her boyfriend. “I thought you and Gus were going trick or treating tonight.”

 

He floated around to block her as she returned to filing. “We were, but Gus has this crazy, insane, bonkers idea that I'm only luring him out to feed my unholy appetite on his sweet sweet Jamaican nectar. Which is totally nuts because he knows I only turn chiii...mpanzees...” he amended when Juliet's glare became homicidal.

 

He nail, far sharper than his own, pointed at him.

 

He lifted his brows in return.

 

“You love me.”

 

Her glare barely softened. “That's debatable. You bringing me dinner?”

 

His grin hit full fang. “AB, B minus...?”

 

She shrugged. “Surprise me. And Shawn,”

 

He stopped on his way towards the skylight.

 

“Could you at least put it on a salad or something? The Ziploc thing is gross even for me.”

 

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

 

“Hot Lips.”

 

“No.”

 

“Neck Nibbler?”

 

“No.”

 

“Super Sucker!”

 

Gus paused.

 

Shawn tipped his head, eyes squinting.

 

“No.”

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

 

 

“Seriously, you can't purify me with salt. It just gives me a rash- OW! Dude, it got in my eye this time!”

 

 

^^ ^^ ^^

 

 

“Spencer... are you wearing _plastic_ fangs?”

 

Shawn admired himself in the mirror. Actually, he admired the pair of dime store fangs floating above a rented tux.

 

“I think they add something.”

 

Lassiter grunted. “It's called stupidity.”

 

Shawn dusted off his lapels. “Just because you have fang envy doesn't mean you have to buzz a kill.”

 

Arms uncrossing in agitation, Lassiter hovered, both height and elevation, over the man in the mirror. “I hardly have fang envy! Certainly not over you, Stumpy!”

 

Aghast, Shawn lifted from the floor with an easily covered wince. “Cuspid Coveter!”

 

“Snaggletooth.”

 

Retort locked on his throat, Shawn made a less than PC gesture that lifted Lassiter's eyebrows in impressed shock.

 

“Shawn!”

 

Caught red fingered, Shawn turned at his father's shout and abruptly yelped as a cramp shot through his thigh. Dropping across the back of the couch, he contemplated that a figure eight was perfectly acceptable for a pretzel but was less than suave when it came to broken vampires.

 

Showing the deepest depth of parental sympathy, his father folded his arms and glowered at his twisted body.

 

“I think you should apologize to Detective Lassiter.”

 

“Really!? Dad, he called me a Snaggle!”

 

“I hate to tell you, kid, but you don't have the straightest pair of teeth I've seen.”

 

“What?” Hooking an arm on a cushion, he yanked and thrashed until he could tumble to the floor. Flying was out for at least a week so he gimped to the mirror. And scowled. “Dammit! How am I supposed to...” He shook the glass, as if it were a TV with a bad signal. Whatever, like his dad hadn't lied to him before. 'Vampires aren't real, Shawn.' As if.

 

This from the man who epitomized the walking dead whenever he caught a head cold.

 

Lassiter grinned as he straightened his tie. No need for adding fuel to the humiliation fire, he seemed content to watch the fun. Of course, the detective had never been much of one for sidelines.

 

“What's that smudge on your forehead?”

 

Funny. Like he was supposed to run for the mirror again and everyone would laugh and have a grand time while poor abused Shawnula would cry in the corner and suck his thumb.

 

His father rubbed his chin. “Could be a pimple.”

 

Lassiter laughed.

 

His dad laughed.

 

Shawn rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, this is really awesome, but some of us have lives, so...”

 

Lassiter cocked his head. “I don't think you and I can, technically, make that claim anymore.”

 

“I think you, technically, have a fat head.” Shawn sniped.

 

“Yeah, well you...”

 

“Boys, enough.” Truce between them forcibly enforced with Henry's outstretched hands, the two of them chose to skulk in separate corners.

 

Out of his father's sight, Shawn repeated his gesture from earlier.

 

From the other side of the room, Lassiter made a slow, throat slashing motion with one claw.

 

Gauntlet thrown.

 

Let the games begin.


	4. Comic Not Sans Bloody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Bonus Comic at the end!!

“I see your Oreos and I will raise you...”

 

Gus's fist winged out and slugged Shawn before he was three centimeters off his chair.

 

“Ow! Dammit!” Chair springs bounced as he dropped, hard. “Dude, that wasn't even on purpose! I told you, it's totally intravenous!”

 

“That isn't even kind of right.” Gus informed as he laid down his cards. “Besides, no matter what you have, you aren't beating a Full House.”

 

“Oh really?” Shawn slapped down his hand. “Bawooom! Suck iiiit!” His Four of a Kind mocked. It twisted the knife. It taunted. Though not as much as Shawn taunted as he immediately broke into a full on, undulating, hip thrusting celebration... four feet above the cushion of his chair.

 

“That's right, son! Drink in this, right here! Right. In. Your. FACE!” Each word was punctuated with a hip thrust. Staring, arms crossed, Gus just tilted his head.

 

Wagging his tongue out, Shawn started to laugh. “I beat you!! You are beat! Beat in the feet, suck an old cow's teat!”

 

Calmly, Gus reached behind himself for the Windex bottle. Facing Shawn again, he raised the bottle and squirted out two bursts of spray.

 

The light mist billowed through the air. The moment it landed on Shawn, he dropped to the floor like a swatted wasp.

 

_**THUD!** _

 

“Guuuuuusssss....”

 

Putting the bottle back on the shelf along with the rest of his vampire repellant, Gus stepped over the mangled body on his way to the kitchen.

 

“Garlic spray. I warned you, Shawn.”

 

Shawn lie unmoving from his twisted heap.

 

“You didn't warn about acid spray!” He whimpered.

 

Digging through the fridge for ANY remaining food that hadn't been converted to Scooby Snacks for the undead, Gus finally lucked into a single package of Go-Gurt.

 

“Sweet.” He whispered as he grabbed the treat. He'd just begun peeling back the top when he spotted the teeny tiny pinprick near the bottom of the package and the tiny bead of dried blood. With a horrified gasp, he dropped the contaminated obscenity to the floor.

 

“ _ **Shawn!! Dude, I will end you!”**_

 

Shawn's broken wail floated from the other room. “It was boo boo berry, though!! You know I can't resist boo boo berry so why would you even buy it? It's your fault and you know it so don't keep blaming everything on me, Gus! Why do you have to...”

 

On and on and on he nattered, Gus pressed one hand against his ear to partially block the squawking ramble of his buddy's over-inflated lament.

 

That was the final straw.

 

Returning to the main office, he grabbed the refilled Windex bottle again. As he breezed past Shawn, he casually gave him another squirt – the cheap shot immediately followed with another tragic wail as Shawn contorted like a spider.

 

“Whhhyyyy!?”

 

Back in the kitchen, Gus began unloading all of Shawn's snacks. Blood pops. Blood Chips Ahoy. Blood Jamba Juice... Container after package after baggie stacked up on the counter in a substantial pile. Once the cupboards and fridge and the large cooler in the closet had been utterly gutted, Gus dug out one of the spare syringes from the silverware drawer. Hefting his garlic water, he unscrewed the cap and filled the first syringe-full of the powerful liquid. Then, grabbing the first treat, he nodded his head.

 

“You wanna play, Shawn? Let's play.”

 

 

 

<p>  
  <img src="http://i147.photobucket.com/albums/r306/dragonnan/VampirecomicGarlic_zps1a565066.jpg" /></p>

**Author's Note:**

> No time frame on chapters as there isn't really a plot. As more vampire happenings occur to me, I'll add them on. :}


End file.
